


Promise

by kalirush



Category: The Fall (2006)
Genre: Gen, Post-Movie(s), Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-14
Updated: 2011-03-14
Packaged: 2017-10-16 22:57:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/170290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalirush/pseuds/kalirush
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A few years after the movie, Roy's money is running out, and old demons are rearing their heads.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Promise

Roy sat and looked out the window. He could see the stars, if he turned his head carefully and tried to ignore the street lamps. He sighed, and leaned back, closing his eyes. He took a swig from the bottle in his left hand. With his right, he ran his fingers over the smooth metal of the pistol laying in his lap.

It was the old demons again: heartbreak and misfortune. Hell, he didn’t know how he’d kept going this long. There was no room in this world for a man with no legs. He couldn’t get work; even places with jobs he was capable of wouldn’t hire him. He made everyone too uncomfortable. Children stared at him on the street, and women looked at him with pity. Like Jane. He took another drink. He’d thought she was different, that she had seen him and not the damned chair, but- He leaned sideways, trying to control the tears starting to stream down his cheeks. He was half a man- less than half. As crippled in spirit as he was in body.

He screamed, and threw the bottle against the wall. It smashed, alcoholic fumes filling the tiny apartment that he lived in. For a moment, he was overwhelmed by it all. The pain of it tore through his heart like an explosion; his grief, his rage, his fear. After a moment, it subsided. He was left curled up on the floor next to his bed, his useless legs trailed out awkwardly to his side. He cradled the gun in his hand.

He was so tired. He’d thought he was okay, thought he was coping. But here he was again. The doctors had done their work. He was as healed as he was ever going to be. He’d lived through the convalescence- it was the rest of his life he couldn’t face. The voices in his head- the ones that told him he was better off dead- would never be quiet. Trembling, he brought the barrel of the gun to his mouth.

And then, in the back of his mind, there was another voice. _Don’t kill him!_ it pleaded with him. _Let him live. Don’t kill him._ With a wash of shame, he remembered how he’d felt, seeing Alexandria lying on that table with her head wrapped up in gauze, waiting for her to wake up, knowing that it was all his fault. _I don’t want you to die_ , she’d said then, looking at him with such love, such fear. _Don’t kill him_. If there was a god, Roy had no doubt that he was going to hell for what he’d done to her. But she’d forgiven him anyway.

He cried, his body shaking. The barrel of the gun was cold against his lips, and his fingertip brushed the trigger. One quick movement, and he could rest. He could end everything. But- _let him live_ , she’d begged. _I promise_ , he’d answered her. He’d held out his hands to her, fingers spread, proof that he’d truly promised. In that moment, she’d made him look outside his own pain. Now, he had to find the strength to do it again. He pulled the gun slowly away.

 _I promise_ , he thought, tears making a slow trail down his cheeks.


End file.
